


Hold Me Dear and Close to Your Heart

by sElkieNight60



Series: When You're in Pieces (and Still Falling Apart) [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bruce Wayne is an Average Parent, Dick Grayson Whump, Dick Grayson-centric, Gen, References to Depression, References to a single sexual act, Se.N, emotionally hurt dick grayson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:15:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23831458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sElkieNight60/pseuds/sElkieNight60
Summary: Dick Grayson leaves his whole life behind when Bruce Wayne kicks him out.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne
Series: When You're in Pieces (and Still Falling Apart) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1717669
Comments: 38
Kudos: 365





	Hold Me Dear and Close to Your Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Writing what I'm supposed to be writing = 😴🖐.
> 
> Allowing inspiration to strike for a totally new story at midnight = 😋👉.
> 
>   
> This is a remix version of the original story, I guess. And marks my very first Batman Bingo square!!
> 
> Enjoy!

It's funny how peaceful the cornfields are at night, Dick thinks, sitting on the hood of his broken down car. The traffic is practically non-existent and the only sounds are that of the animals hidden amongst the tall corn. It's peaceful, it's… _lonely_.

Batman has a new Robin now. That was something he learned today. Jason is the kid's name, or so Alfred had said before introducing the boy. Jason was a little rough around the edges, but still cute. Dick could see why Bruce liked him, he probably found the boy's attitude charming.

There's no room for Dick anymore. Where once he though he took up space in Bruce's heart, now he's sure he doesn't and never did.

The light of his phone screen dies. The battery is flat now. Dick throws it out into the corn.

The next car that comes along picks him up and Dick gives the man his whole credit card. It's the card that goes to his trust fund. Better it go to someone who'll actually use it.

The guy is nice. He asks, “you're sure?” as Dick gets out by a gas station.

“Yeah,” he says. “I don't want my old life anymore.”

That the last of his things, he's going to start from scratch. The last of the cash in his wallet goes towards a single, shitty room at a motel for the night. Dick gets himself a job at a roadside bar the next day.

Stacy is the barkeep. A classic, country blonde if ever he's seen one.

“It's rough around here,” she admits with a frown. “You're sure? I can only pay in cash.” She eyes him up and down.

“I can handle it,” he says. “And cash is best.

Dick is there for barely two weeks before he gives his first blow-job to a truck-driver in the bathroom. It's almost not _unfamiliar_ in it's own way. Servicing men is hardly any different from servicing woman. It's still service. That night he dyes his hair bleach blonde and knows deep down that he hates himself; he just can't bring himself to care about that.

Bruce would probably shrink from him in disgust if he ever found out. Good thing he won't then. Dick probably won't ever see Bruce again. That's the thought that inspires tears from him at three am in the morning.

“Shitty parents are shitty,” Stacy says with a shrug as she's helping him close up. The words come from a place of knowing. “Nothing you can do about being born to 'em.”

Except Dick _wasn't_ born to Bruce. Bruce _chose_ him. Which meant that Dick was so awful, such a horrible person that even someone who had picked him out thought he was terrible.

Bruce doesn't miss him. Bruce never even loved him. Sometimes Dick wonders if the Titans miss him, though. Probably not, since they never came looking for him. Not that he made it easy, but still. If they wanted to find him, they had ways.

“You ever had dreams, kid,” Stacy asks a week later from the bottom of a bottle. “Like, real dreams? Not coming out here and wasting your life away, like me?”

Dick has to think about it for a minute. Robin was who he was for such a long time that it was a part of him, his personality and aspirations. Once he had thought Bruce and he would be Batman and Robin forever. That once attainable dream seems almost pipe-like now. Bruce gave Robin away. When it wasn't even Bruce's to _give_.

“I wanted to… I wanted to deliver justice for the little guy,” he says eventually, staring into a bottle of his own. “You know? Help victims, make sure bad guys couldn't get away with stuff.”

“Oh?” Stacy replies. “Like a cop?”

Those three little words set him on a path.

Dick packs the few clothes he has accumulated after three months and thanks Stacy for everything, promising to call her when he reaches Gotham.

The wound left by Bruce's betrayal still festers, but maybe time will be enough to flush it out. It doesn't quite ache the way it once did.

Dick takes the late line bus, he misses the cornfields once they're behind him. Gotham welcomes him home with the foul stench of city life. The country had been a bubble, a place to put things behind him. Not once had he picked up a paper or looked at an internet article. It was refreshing not to have to worry about his image.

Now, though, the thought of it comes slowly creeping in.

Dick finds a room for let. That night he shaves off his hair, cutting away the blonde and leaving only the natural dark. The sight of himself in the mirror is disgusting, but Dick doesn't think he'll be recognised. He's not the shiny picture of a Wayne he once was. Working nights at the bar have done him no favours―he's pale and gaunt looking. All his clothes come from Goodwill or were Stacy's brother's that he left behind when he went to look for work elsewhere. This is not the Dick Grayson people knew. This is not the Dick Grayson they remember.

Signing up for police academy is easy. Passing top of his class and in record time is also easy. Strangely, avoiding Batman and Robin is hard. The GCPD run in with them all the time.

Dick is a junior on the force the first time he sees Commissioner Gordon speaking with Batman. The Commissioner, who once recognised Dick easily when he and Barbara had dated, glances over him every morning without acknowledgement.

A false name and a buzz cut will do that, Dick supposes.

Ric Grey is an exceptional young cop. Richard Grayson doesn't exist. Not outside of his own head, anyway.

An innumerable number of cops are exposed as dirty that year. The evidence just shows up magically on the Commissioner's desk.

Dick moves into a real apartment two months after joining the force. With a leaky roof and hot water that lasts only five minutes at a time, it's a shitty little thing, but Dick hasn't had a _home_ in ages.

The first weekend he spends there is filled with Ikea shopping. He takes five free pencils and buys himself meatballs at the end of his spree. The flat-packs are delivered the next day and he spends ages putting them together, but it's immensely satisfying to see his life coming together for the first time in a year.

Avoiding Batman and Robin while he works eventually becomes easy too. Thankfully, he's never alone. All the other police officers jump at the chance to speak to the famed duo. Ric hangs back and keeps his cap low over his eyes. Under the cowl, Bruce's eyes glide over him like water. _Too easy_.

It's nearly April by the time things become _less_ easy, a mistake that becomes a falter that becomes a trip and then a fall. Dick makes a day trip out to Metropolis and gets caught up in some villain's scheme as he's waiting at the bus stop for his ride home.

A building comes down and as he watches it fall, Dick thinks this might be it. The end. Killed as a civilian. Life has never been that lucky for him. When he wakes underneath all the rubble, a little bruised but otherwise, _miraculously whole_ , there's nothing he can do but wait. The hair that has grown a little too long in the past few months flops over into his eyes despite his attempts to keep it pushed back. It's annoying. He'll need to cut it again soon. Maybe he should call Stacy too, check in and see how she's doing. It's with this final thought that light pierces through the debris and the concrete above him shifts.

“It's alright,” he hears a familiar voice call down to him. “We're going to get you out soon! Just hold on a little longer, okay?”

To anyone else, Superman's voice might have been a comfort, a relief. Something to rejoice over. As it is, Dick feels himself pale. There's a rock in his stomach that he wants to throw up. Dick wishes he'd brought a cap with him. Something at least to cover his face―he just hadn't thought a building would come down on him today.

Clark's worried eyes soon meet his and recognition sparks, absolute shock chasing it across his face.

“D―Dick?” Clark ejects, moving the rubble with renewed vigour, hurrying to get him out.

If there wasn't so much pressure on his chest, he would sigh.

“Yeah,” he replies, the timbre like he's been gurgling the rubble he's buried under. “It's me.”

Clark gets him out and checks him over before tearing up and pulling Dick into an almost bone crushing hug. It's… unexpected.

“You're alive!” Clark whispers with exuberant relief into his hair. “Goodness, it's really you!”

Dick's not allowed a moment for confusion before Clark is barrelling on.

“Everyone thought you were dead!” He exclaims wildly, eyes nearly bulging right out of their sockets as he pulls back again to get another good look at Dick. “The league, the Titans, _Bruce_. What happened? Where were you? Bruce had us all out looking for weeks. No one could find any trace of you. Barry found your car, abandoned by the side of the road, but after that you were completely gone. We… we had to stop looking. Bruce didn't though, he never stopped searching for you.”

If that's meant to be a comfort, it isn't. _Perhaps Batman wasn't as good of a detective as he thought he was_.

“Oh, shoot,” Clark exclaims. “Come on, let's get the EMTs to look you over. I'll call Bruce, let him know I've found you. I'm sure he'll be here as fast as he can.”

Dick gets checked over by the paramedics, but by the time Clark has finished on his call, Dick has vanished.

Batman, unusually, is sighted in Metropolis a few times that week. The newspapers report it to be the end of times. Dick knows better.

The familiar smell of his mouldy apartment is home sweet home. Ric takes a few days personal leave from the station.

Somehow, impossibly, the situation grows worse.

It's seven in the morning and his coffee is brewing. Half a slice of jam on toast is in his mouth as he reaches for the TV remote on the counter and flicks on the morning news. Coffee in hand he makes his way over to his IKEA couch and plops himself down only to nearly spill the whole mug on himself as he is met with his own face on the television screen.

It's him. Younger, more well-groomed, a fuller head of hair, but still Richard “Dick” Grayson. Wow. He looks happy. The picture just makes him want to shake his head and chide his past self for believing in happiness so naively.

There's a reward.

 _No,_ that can't be right.

“Recent evidence has come to light that Richard Grayson, former ward of billionaire Bruce Wayne, is, in fact, still alive,” the red-headed newscaster is saying. “A reward of seven million dollars is being offered by the billionaire for his safe return. Anyone with information should call crime stoppers.”

Just to be safe, Dick shaves the rest of his hair off that morning before going into work.

“Ah, you know, it was getting too long again,” is his excuse, accompanied by a charismatic little laugh.

The station is abuzz with the news about there being a reward offered for Dick Grayson's safe return. He keeps his head low and his face lower that day. Fortunately, poor nutrition and double-time plus extra means his appearance is not that of his youthful, younger self. Dick's not sure he's pulled a smile like that in over a year either. No one would connect sullen Ric with exciting Dick.

“Thank god not everyone is losing their minds over this bloody Dick Grayson saga,” detective Tonya Pearson says, ripping off a nicotine patch and tossing it in the bin. “Although, at this point it's probably just you and me, Grey.”

Dick chuckles nervously and fills in his paperwork.

It's five minutes before he knocks off that scarecrow releases fear gas down town. _Five, fucking minutes!_

Ric dutifully gets in the patrol car and Pearson floors it. They get their gas masks on before they get out the car and inspect the damage. Ambulances are already on the scene, treating hallucinating victims. Batman has left scarecrow tied up for them. Convenient.

Dick's not expecting to be ambushed by the bloody bat when he walks over to inspect an unconscious Crane.

Through the gas it's impossible to make out anyone else, but it's lifting, slowly.

“It should wear off in a few hours,” Batman says, spooking him almost out of his skin. “The effects of the fear gas, I mean.”

“Geezus―!” Dick yelps, jumping five feet in the air and rounding on him. “Could you _not_ do that?”

Under the cowl, Dick knows the man is smirking when he replies, “Sorry.” Bastard. He's not sorry.

“It's not a new strain, is it?” Dick asks warily, praying for another _different_ officer to conveniently carry on this conversation.

“No,” Batman confirms. “Scarecrow was attempting to rob the city bank in order to pay for experimental substances. Luckily, Robin and I happened to be in the area.”

Dick rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, sure you were,” slips out.

Batman's eyes narrow.

“You don't believe me?”

Dick flaps a non-committal hand.

“No, no,” he returns. “I believe you just fine.” It's hard to keep the bite out of his tone.

He can feel Bruce's scrutinising glare. Fortunately, Dick is the one with all the cards in this situation.

“Are you new to the force?” Batman asks. “I don't recognise you. What is your name?”

_Oh, no no no no no. Abort, abort!_

“Uh, nobody―no one special, I mean?”

That sounds goddamn suspicious even to his own ears.

Batman's gauntlet is around his neck in seconds. Well this isn't how Dick thought this would go. Not at all. But at the same time, is he completely surprised? No, no really.

Dick does his best not to struggle, but Bruce is reaching for his gas mask despite there still being fear gas in the air and Dick _won't_ be rendered that helpless in front of the man. Not again.

The reflexive movements are stiff, but they're unexpected enough to slip out of Batman's grip. They give him away though. They're not moves an ordinary police officer would know.

Bruce blinks.

There's nowhere to run and nowhere to hide.

Hands come up either side of the mask, shaky and trembling.

“It can't be,” he says, like a man having an out of body experience. “It… it can't be you… Dick?”

Bruce pats his neck and his shoulders and then his hands come up to his face again―Dick knows his face is obscured. It must be the distinct colour of his irises that give him away Eyes wander over his torso and with every second longer he looks, the more convinced Dick knows he becomes.

“Um… yeah.”

Wow, that was lame.

The hug is kinda nice though. Dick used to be the one initiating the hugs. Weird, but nice that Bruce initiated it this time.

“You're… you're really here,” he chokes wetly, fingers knocking off Dick's police cap and exposing his nearly bald head. Bruce doesn't seem to care, though. The embrace is so tight Dick nearly can't move. “You're here, you're _alive_.”

“Sure,” Dick says with an attempt at a shrug. Mostly because he doesn't know what else to say.

Bruce is barrelling on. “Why didn't you call? If not me, at least Alfred? Oh god, I thought I lost you. I though I lost you for good. I have so many things to… make up to you, Dick, I am _so_ _―_ _”_ the rest of the apology is lost in an indescribable wail. It hurts Dick's heart.

“Hey,” he says, bringing arms up around Bruce's torso. “I'm here. I'm alive.”

Bruce does not stop crying. It's unnerving.

That night, when Dick finally gets off work, he finds Batman standing in his apartment, appraising his furniture.

“It's… nice,” he says, strained, cowl pulled back and eyes red-rimmed from all the crying.

Dick snorts, pulls a beer out of the fridge and flops onto his couch. “It's a crappy apartment, B. No need to sugar coat it.”

Bruce sits next to him tentatively. “Have you been here the whole time?”

“Nah, went out to farm country for a while.”

“Oh.”

“Yup.”

“When did you come back… back to Gotham?”

“Hmm,” Dick takes a sip from his beer and thinks. “It's been a while, I suppose. Several months now, at least.”

Bruce rubs his hands over his knees. It's funny, because Dick knows he is nervous.

“So you're a police officer now?”

“Yup. Ric Grey is a police officer, actually. I'm just the driver.”

Bruce nods, like it's all making sense now.

“That's why we couldn't find you.”

Dick has to bite back something snarky about how he didn't think Bruce would be looking.

“I made the League look for you.”

“So I heard. Clark said.”

“Right.”

“Okay then.”

The conversation couldn't _be_ more awkward if Dick was being deliberately obtuse. Bruce is building his way up to something though. Far be it for Dick to stand in his way.

“Do you...” he begins, then falters. “Do you think you might maybe come… come home this weekend?”

“I am home, Bruce,” he says.

Bruce shakes his head.

“The manor, then.”

Dick makes a face, like he's thinking about it.

“Maybe,” he replies, challenging and somewhat biting. “Am I suddenly welcome there now?”

_You kicked me out, remember?_

Dick's not expecting this manoeuvre to reduce Bruce to begging, but apparently they're way past that now.

“Please,” Bruce pleads looking like a wreck, nerves shot. He's terrified. Terrified of making a mistake. “Please I… there is so much I need to say. I want…”

“I don't care what you want, Bruce,” Dick returns, coldly.

The iciness in his tone appears to be expected.

“I know,” Bruce sighs. “And you shouldn't. But please,” he pulls up the cowl again. “Think about it, won't you?”

Dick makes a non-committal noise and thinks that will be that.

It isn't.

In the very last second, a moment not long enough to deliberate in, Bruce leans in a pecks a kiss to his forehead.

“I missed you,” he says, lingering there in Dick's surprise. And then he's gone.

* * *

Dick is angry. Angry at Bruce, at himself, at the world. At the stupid manor gates he's standing in front of. There's no time to consider pressing the buzzer, the gates swing open the moment the security camera catches sight of him. He trudges reluctantly up the driveway.

Alfred meets him at the door with glistening wetness in the corners of his eyes and a, “Oh, my boy. It is good to see you again.”

Dick feels a little bad for worrying Alfred all this time.

Bruce is waiting for him, along with Jason.

“This is your brother, Jay,” Bruce says, introducing him. “This is Dick.”

Dick holds out a tired hand and has never more felt so old as to when the youthful young boy takes his hand shyly and gives it a solid shake, starstruck.

“Jason,” announces the kid.

“Nice to meet you Jason,” Dick greets him wearily. “You did good work the other night. On the Crane case.”

Jason frowns.

“You were there?”

Dick retracts his hand.

“Yeah,” he says. “I'm a cop now. Working at the GCPD.”

Dick didn't think Jason _could_ look more starstruck, but he manages it. “Oh, that's cool. I don't like cops, but you kinda seem like you might be a good one.”

Dick gives him a real smile at that. It's little, a little stiff around the edges, but it's there.

“Cleaning up the GCPD from the inside out,” he says, smirking.

They eat lunch together. Bruce, Jason and him. Bruce keeps looking up at him, maybe just to confirm he's really there. Dick doesn't think he gets that right, not after Bruce kicked him out to begin with, but he lets it slide and doesn't say anything.

Dick's missed Alfred's cooking.

Jason disappears off to his room after lunch. That's when Dick knows whatever Bruce truly wants to say will be said now. He tries to keep his posture relaxed, the stiffness out of his shoulders, but he's sure his nervousness shows.

“I should start with an apology,” Bruce says seriously, interlacing his fingers.

Dick snorts. _Perhaps that might be a good place to start, yeah, but it won't be enough._

The man ignores the sound and continues on, despite the defensive stance Dick has taken up in his seat.

“I never should have said those things to you, Dick,” he continues, sadly. “I shouldn't have told you to leave. I didn't mean it. Please know that I didn't mean it. I was… I was angry and… I lost my head. I never thought. Well, I guess that's just it. I wasn't even thinking at all.”

Dick feels his jaw clench. Then unclench.

“You put out a reward,” he says. “For me. Seven million is quite a sum.”

Bruce nods. “I did.” He looks… distressed. “I knew someone had your credit card from the second day you were gone. I hunted all over Gotham for you. I spent every day looking. I was ready to get down on my knees and beg you to come home.”

“And you couldn't find me, so you contacted the League?” Dick asks with a hint of disbelief.

“And your friends,” Bruce confirms with a nod. “I'd hoped you had just gone to stay with one of them, but no one I spoke to had seen you. Eventually, your car was found on the side of the road and I… I began to fear the worst. The weight of my mistakes hit me, then. The moment I laid eyes on your car I…”

Dick nods. He gets it.

Bruce gets up from his chair and scoots down a few seats until the distance between them is closed up completely. The man is looking at him like a farmer rejoicing the coming of rain.

“I am sorry, Dick,” he whispers, tugging one of Dick's hands between his own, gripping tightly like he fears to let go. “Please, will you consider forgiving me?”

“I'll… consider it,” Dick replies, but he already knows, despite the hurt and the hatred he has felt, part of him wants so desperately to make up with Bruce. To be his son. To come home again.

Bruce tugs him into a hug and tucks Dick's head under his chin, just like he used to do when Dick was much smaller. The tears in his eyes rise unbidden and unwanted. He can't show weakness like this to Bruce, not again, but then he feels a wetness land on his head and Dick suddenly realises they're in the same boat.

“That's all I can ask.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment or kudos if you liked this work! Also, if you want to make a new friend, come chat with me at [Tumblr](https://selkienight60.tumblr.com/).


End file.
